never-to-be-forgotten trip into the suburbs of Annapolis.

"I found that mulatto in a low den," confessed the sick man. "I told
him you carried a lot of money, and that he'd be welcome to it all if
he'd decoy you somewhere, keep you all night, and then send you back,
looking like a tramp, to the Naval Academy at the last moment."

Truax also added the name by which the mulatto was known in Annapolis.

"But why have you done all this?" demanded Jack. "What have you had
against me?"

"I--I didn't do it on my own account," confessed Truax. "Did you ever
hear of Tip Gaynor?"

"No--never," admitted Jack, after a moment's thought.

"He's--he's a salesman, or something like that, for Sidenham."

"The Sidenham Submarine Company?" breathed Jack Benson, intensely
interested.

"Yes."

"The Sidenham people are our nearest competitors in the submarine
business," muttered young Benson.

"Yes; and of course they wanted to get the business away from the
Pollard crowd," confessed Sam Truax. "They told Tip Gaynor it would
be worth ten thousand dollars to him for each Sidenham boat he could
sell to the United States Government. Tip wanted that money, and your
Pollard people were the hardest ones he had to beat. So Tip hired
me--"

"One moment," interrupted Jack, quietly. "Did the Sidenham people know
that Gaynor intended to use any such methods?"

"I don't believe they did," replied Truax. "In fact, Gaynor as good
as told me the Sidenhams didn't know anything about his proposed tricks.
He told me I must be very careful to keep the Sidenham name out of it
all."

"So Tip Gaynor hired you to do all you could to disgrace me in the eyes
of the Navy people?" demanded Jack.

"Yes--to hurt any of you, for that matter."

"And to play tricks in the engine room of either submarine?"

"Yes; Tip Gaynor told me it was highly important to cause the boats to
break down while under the eyes of all Annapolis."

"I understand," muttered Jack. "That was clever, in a way. It was
intended to make the whole Navy think the Pollard boat one that couldn't
be depended upon?"

"That was the idea," assented Sam Truax, weakly.

"What sort of a looking fellow is Tip Gaynor?" asked Jack.

"You've met him!"

"I?" demanded Jack, in astonishment.

"Yes. From what I hear. He was the blackbearded man who drugged you
and shanghaied you in the white knockabout. Only Tip doesn't usually
wear a beard. He has grown it in the last three